The Beautiful Lie
by StarrySkies
Summary: She's worried about you. MacStella, StellaLindsay friendship


**TITLE: **The Beautiful Lie  
**AUTHOR:** StarrySkies  
**RATING:** T  
**PAIRING:** Mac/Stella, Stella/Lindsay friendship  
**DISCLAIMER:** Title and characters do not belong to me.  
**SUMMARY:** "She's worried about you."  
**SPOILERS:** References to "All Access," "Zoo York," and a vague one to "Dancing With The Fishes." Don't know if you'll even notice it. Set around 'Stealing Home."  
**A/N:** This piece was inspired by Scarletts-awry's S/L fics and by the fact that I am positive Stella is Lindsay's hero. Title is from Dolly Parton.

* * *

Out of nowhere, he says, "Lindsay's worried about you." 

"I'm fine." She tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

Mac hopes he doesn't overstep his bounds when he says this, but, "That day," he starts. And she knows what day he's referring to, thankful for no further description than that. "She called me, asking me to let her help. She really looks up to you. You know?"

"What's there to look up to?" The wind blows her hair into her face, and she swipes it behind her ear again.

"Don't be that way, Stella. You should talk to her."

"About what?"

"Maybe... you could use some of that energy you waste on trying to tell _me_ you're okay -- when I know you're not -- on trying to convince _her_ you're okay. Stella, I know when you're lying. She hasn't developed the skill of reading you yet."

"Oh, and you have?"

He doesn't want to get into another argument with her. There's been too many since Frankie already.

"Just call her."

* * *

"_Leave me a message, and I'll call you back."_

A high-pitched noise sounds in her ear, indicating her cue. "Lindsay. Hey. It's Stella. Um, I was wondering if you were free to talk tonight. Might do both of us some good," she tries to joke. "Sullivan's okay? 8 o'clock? I guess... I'll see you there. If you wanna meet somewhere else, let me know."

* * *

Stella has already reserved a booth near the back and has ordered her drink a good ten minutes before Lindsay arrives. She doesn't know what she's going to say or how she's going to say it. How she's going to make her believe it when she says it. It's taken her a while to warm up to the newest member of their team. But she's a hard worker, and Stella respects that most of all. And she seems to have opened Mac up a little more. Whatever it was she's done, she's grateful for that too. 

She sees the small girl pull the door open, a bell attached to the frame signaling her entrance. Stella watches her scan the over-crowded bar, looking more and more nervous by the second. She unwraps the colorful, glittery scarf from her neck and wrings it together in her hands. It's more fashion than necessity, seeing as how the weather's already turned from spring to an early summer. Wanting to save her from floundering, she half-stands with her left arm gently waving to catch her attention.

She finally looks toward her and sighs with a humiliated smile toward the floor, navigating her way through the sea of people.

"Hey," she exhales. "Sorry. I'm a dork."

Stella smiles a little and waves, this time to get the waiter's attention. "Want anything?"

"Uh, sure." She looks at Stella's half-empty glass with the ice nearly melted. "Whatever you're having."

"It's just water."

"Oh good. I'm not much of a drinker."

"I try not to be." Stella means this in a light-hearted way, but it falls flat.

"Oh..."

"What can I get you ladies?"

The chance has come and gone to acknowledge Lindsay's awkwardness.

"A re-fill for me. A water for her."

"With lemon," Lindsay speaks up.

"With lemon," repeats Stella, smiling.

"I'll be right back," he says. He removes Stella's glass from the tabletop.

Gesturing to Lindsay to sit down, Stella tries to get comfortable again in the booth. Pushes her handbag as far as she can, up against the window.

They stare at each other uncomfortably, neither knowing who should initiate the conversation they're here for. A moment or so passes when Lindsay gets up courage to speak. "Did Mac ask you to talk to me?" Her eyes have lowered, focusing on the table rather than the dark-haired woman sitting opposite her.

"Yeah, he did."

"I'm doing something wrong." She knew this would be coming.

"No, no. He uh--"

"Here you go. Let me know if there's anything else I can get you." The vested man sits their drinks on fresh napkins in front of them and hopes they will order something that's not on the house.

"We will," Lindsay says. "Thank-you." She picks up her glass and the saltshaker from the table. She sprinkles a few grains on top of the napkin before sitting the glass down again.

Stella stares. "I've... never seen anyone do that."

"It's so the... napkin doesn't stick..." She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Yet _more_ proof that I'm a dork."

"That's pretty smart, actually." She picks up her own glass, peels the slightly dampened paper from it and lets Lindsay salt it. She sits the glass down and immediately picks it back up again without the napkin clinging to it. "Heh," she laughs. "I'll remember that."

Lindsay smiles. "Mac," she says in hopes of getting Stella back on topic.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure I didn't do something wrong?" she blurts out quickly.

Stella finds this a bit funny but doesn't dare laugh. "You didn't do anything wrong. I swear."

She's able to relax a bit, but she's transferred her nervousness on what's about to come. "Okay. So…"

"He told me you've been concerned about me," she starts, watching for her reaction. "About everything... that happened." She doesn't want to say it out loud. Doesn't want to face it that much yet. "Have you?" Those last words, she hopes, didn't come out as shakily as they sounded in her own ears. But she has a feeling they did.

Lindsay fishes the lemon wedge from her glass and squeezes some of the juice into her water, retrieving the seeds with a spoon.

"Lindsay?" She tilts her head downward to try to look her in the face, but she refuses to make eye contact.

She tightens her mouth, buying some time to gather up the nerve. "I asked him to let me help with your case. I just wanted to do something. Anything. But... he said no."

"You didn't need to see that." Stella shakes her head, curls bouncing.

"Why does everyone here think I need to be sheltered?" This sounds maybe a little more heated than she had intended. "I'm a big girl."

Something tightens inside Stella's chest when she hears that, makes her catch her breath, and for a minute, she thinks she's about to start to cry. She stares up at the recess lighting and at the single lamp hanging above their table. She doesn't look directly at the bulb; its intensity would make her eyes water, and that's the last thing she needs right now.

She's gotten the feeling under control as best she can. "Maybe I didn't want _anyone_ to see me like that. Especially you."

"Why?" she whispers. Hurt has swept across her face when Stella looks at her.

"Hey. No, I didn't mean it that way. I'm just... used to going through things alone. I didn't _want_ Flack there. I certainly didn't want _Mac_ to see me like that. But they had to. I didn't have much of a choice."

Naïvely, Lindsay asks, "What about your mom? Didn't you tell her?"

"No," she says. "I didn't."

The younger girl's face wrinkles with confusion. "Wouldn't she want to know?" She can't imagine something of this magnitude happening to her and a call home not being the biggest priority on her list.

"No." Stella nods her head once emphatically and presses her lips together out of frustration or maybe to prevent her mouth from trembling. (She's not sure which.) "I can honestly say she wouldn't."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I --"

"Don't be," Stella replies and takes a sip of her water. "I'm not."

She stares at Stella's left cheekbone. The skin is still split, a crimson stripe fusing back together more quickly than the psychological detriment, she's sure. The area around the gash is still bruised but has started to fade from purple to its familiar olive hue. She's looked at it every day since she returned to work, noting its healing progress.

"What?"

Stella startles her even though she hadn't spoken loud enough for anyone but Lindsay to hear.

"Huh?"

"You're staring at me."

Lindsay apologizes again. Most of their conversation had consisted of her apologizing or saying things she didn't mean to say. She hadn't realized it would be this hard to talk to Stella. She'd been practicing speeches in her head during the week Stella was forced to take off. Things about how, if she could gather the courage to call, she would be there if she needed anything. Now it all seemed so pointless. And dumb. And all she wants to do is forget the whole thing.

"It's fine," Stella reassures her. "Here," she leans forward, being careful she doesn't tip over their glasses. Stella doesn't know any other way to make her understand. She reaches across the table and grabs her hand and brings it to her face.

"I--I--I don't want to," Lindsay stutters. "It's okay, really."

Her arm is resistant at first. Stella has to pull gently, but eventually, she gives in. She feels the scar, and Stella isn't wincing. She lightly measures the distance of the cut from end to end with her fingertip.

"See? I'm fine."

Lindsay removes her hand. And instead of making her feel better, it only makes her feel worse. She says in a low voice, "I hate him for what he did."

"Don't hate him."

"You don't?"

Stella doesn't answer with words, merely raises one of her shoulders and crunches a couple of ice cubes between her back teeth. She takes the time to swallow. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you want to help me?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I--I just thought it would be the right thing to do. When I first got here, Mac was letting me drown. That old 'sink or swim in the deep end of the pool' thing? I don't know. I guess that's how he treats all of the rookies. Danny," she smirks, looking down into her drink. "All he wanted to do was confuse me right off the bat. You… You were the only one who offered me practical advice. You made me feel like I made the right choice, coming here. You're -- all of you -- are the closest thing I have to family now. And where I'm from, family means a lot. And when someone needs the help, you do what you can."

She smiles at the sentiment. She may be right.

"I was so scared for you." She hangs her head a little . She won't tell her about the incident that day. Walking out in the middle of an interrogation. Blowing up at Danny in the lobby of the building, not being able to think clearly. To focus on anything but the image of Stella lying in a hospital bed and everyone telling her she need not get involved. She'll keep that to herself.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. Don't apologize."

"I know it was scary. For me, and for the rest of you. If I could've prevented it, I would have. But I didn't know…" she trails off and doesn't want to say anything past that point. She shakes her head back and forth really fast, trying to erase the thought as if her brain were run by an Etch-A-Sketch. And it works for the moment. But not nearly as long as she needs it to. "It's getting late. I'll let you get home."

"Yeah." She looks at her watch. She doesn't really want to leave yet, but she agrees anyway.

"I got the tip." Stella leaves a couple dollars on the table even though they didn't actually order anything.

"Thanks."

Lindsay stands, and Stella nods, grabbing her handbag while she scoots out of the booth. Walking to the front of the bar, Lindsay exits first but holds the door open behind her for Stella. They stand out front for a minute, Stella eyeing the traffic for a cab, debating on taking the subway. The heat from the day is still lingering even though the sun has set maybe an hour before. The beginnings of sweat forms on their skin. Lindsay's waiting to say good-bye.

"I guess I'm gonna go," she says, starting to turn away.

"All right. We're… good?" Stella's palms are pressed together, pointing her hands toward Lindsay.

"Fine." She smiles.

"You don't have to worry about anything. I'm okay."

"Okay," she repeats, but she isn't entirely sure she believes her. Still, it's better for now to pretend. She knows that's what Stella's been doing for weeks.

Stella pulls her in for a light hug, and Lindsay turns to start down the block. She watches her leave, and before she can get too far, she calls out, "Lindsay."

A streetlight casts shadows down on her face, a halo effect on her hair when she spins around.

"Thanks for thinking about me."

"You're welcome," she says sincerely.

"And Mac thinks you're doing a great job."

She nods, feeling better. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Maybe that's the one thing, the only thing, Lindsay is able to do for her. Just pretend, for her sake.

End.


End file.
